The One Case That Never Went On Record
by Alatar Maia
Summary: Shawn thought the Meitner case was cut-and-dry - they found the murderer, after all, and he was an identity thief to boot. But then their suspect goes missing from his jail cell, and the guards only looked away for ten seconds. And Shawn's beginning to think that there's something off about that janitor...


**Takes place during If You're So Smart, Then Why Are You Dead? in season two - the one where Shawn and Gus go undercover[ish] at a local high school.  
**

**I can't remember what the identity theft guy's real name was, so I've decided it was Julian Richardson. If anyone remembers what it _really _was, let me know so I can edit this accordingly.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or Supernatural.**

* * *

"Come on, Gus." Shawn complained. "We need a lead! We can't let Lassie and Jules beat us on this!"

"What do you suggest, Shawn?" Gus shot back. "We've been here for half an hour. How are we supposed to have a suspect already?"

Shawn opened his mouth to reply, then paused as he saw the figure standing in the hallways they'd just entered, mopping the floors. He was wearing a janitor's uniform - Shawn could tell by the label on the collar, even if the man's blond hair [longer than the norm] partially obscured it.

"Dude!" he smacked Gus excitedly, hitting his friend in the ribs.

"I see him," Gus muttered, shooting Shawn a dirty look. "You think he's our guy?"

"Think about it. The janitor's got access to everything - _including _the school after dark." Shawn hissed in an excited undertone. "If he's got a gravelly voice-"

"Then he's our guy," Gus finished, looking thoughtfully at the man.

"Exactly! Come on, let's go question him." Shawn strode towards the man. "Excuse me!"

The guy turned around, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

His voice _definitely _wasn't gravelly. Shawn stopped, mouth twisting into an 'uh-oh' face. This was awkward.

Well, no point in giving up.

"My name is Shawn Spencer," He proclaimed. "I was wondering if you saw anything..._peculiar _in the school, say, Friday night?"

The janitor still looked confused, but he grinned crookedly at Shawn. "There a reason you're asking?"

"Personal interest," Gus answered quickly. "We're this semester's guest lecturers, and we heard there had been an incident."

The janitor snorted. "I don't know anything about an incident. I wouldn't put too much stake on student rumors - these kids might be geniuses, but some of 'em can be pretty dense about real life."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Shawn laughed, the pretended he hadn't when he saw Gus's face. "So, did you see anything?"

"Nope." The janitor propped his mop in the bucket. "Fairly normal night."

"Only fairly?" Shawn was quick to jump onto what looked like a lead. "Not _completely _normal?"

"Yeah, don't get too excited." The janitor rolled his eyes. "I actually found it over here - nothing when I was washing, but I came around to finish up - some gold pin on the ground."

"Really?" Shawn tried not to sound as interested as he really was.

"Yep. Like it appeared out of nowhere." The janitor's tone was joking, and he grinned at the two of them again. "Funny, huh? All I know is, after two weeks in lost and found it's mine."

"Yeah, funny," Gus said, looking at Shawn meaningfully and jerking his head towards the nearest door. "We should go - we might be late for our class."

"What are you teaching?"

"_I'm _teaching," Shawn informed him. "I'm a psychic."

"Really?" The janitor looked surprised, then smiled. "Alright, then. Can you do me?"

"That's a little forward," Shawn laughed, but his eyes were already flicking over the man, looking for anything that might tell him something. _Hands are clean - no blisters. _He quickly put a hand to his head, closing his eyes. "I sense you are very new at your job," He announced. "You got hired recently...last week?" He cracked an eye open to see the janitor's reaction.

"Nice," The man laughed. "Last Monday, actually, but you knew that."

"Oh, totally." _Candy bar in the pocket - blue lettering. _"You also enjoy Snickers bars. Good choice."

"_Shawn," _Gus said tightly.

"Alright, _fine." _Shawn rolled his eyes, turning to follow Gus into the main part of school.

Neither of them saw the janitor stare after them, a gleam in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"Gus, did you _see _how short he was? He was like a fairy. Hey, do you think he has magical powers?"

"Shawn, be serious."

"I am being serious. Dude, his eyes were like, gold. That's not a normal color!"

"I'm plugging my ears, Shawn."

* * *

"Alright, so we've established that Hahn could be our guy." Shawn was sitting cross-legged on his desk in the Psych office, staring at Gus. "What else?"

"We know he's mean enough to do it," Gus offered, shaking his head. "That guy was a dick."

"_And _he stayed late Friday night." Shawn rubbed his hands together. "Now we just have to _prove _that he was the one that did it."

"And how are we gonna do that?" Gus asked.

"Well, we do have the entire semester to do it."

"No, we _don't, _Shawn. I have work."

"I thought you worked at the school now."

"I've still got my real job!" Gus protested.

"Smiatics." Shawn waved dismissively.

"It's _semantics, _Shawn."

"I've heard it both ways."

"Would you please stop that?" Gus sounded as irritated as he looked. "And by the way, you're forgetting that this person is gonna strike on Wednesday. That's tomorrow."

"I'm aware." Shawn pursed his lips. "It's your turn to drive the carpool tomorrow, you know? Just us. And a possible murderer. In a car together."

* * *

When they pulled up to Hahn's house the next day, they were greeted with a smoking wreck and a mess of emergency vehicles and cops.

"What happened?" Was the first thing Shawn asked when he tracked down Juliet inside.

"Explosion," Was the clipped reply. She held up what might have once been a coffee maker. "Far as we can tell, this set it off. Forensics is saying it's an accident."

"What?" Shawn scoffed, as Lassiter walked up to the group. "No way."

"Well, what else could it be, Spencer?" Lassiter demanded. "There was a gas leak in the stove. He turned the coffee pot on in the morning, boom. End of story."

Shawn frowned. Hadn't one of those kids said... "That's not right. Hahn got coffee at school every morning. Why would he be making it at home?"

"He what?" Juliet looked startled. "How do you know?"

Shawn raised his hand to his head, but Lassiter snorted and forced it down before he could say anything. "Right. You 'saw' it."

"The spirits don't lie, Lassie. This was murder." Shawn affected what he thought was a suitably spooky voice for the last word. "You can ask the lady at the coffee counter. What are they called? They're not waitresses. They're _definitely _not stewardesses, those are the ladies on airplanes."

"Barista," Gus supplied, looking smug.

Shawn laughed. "Gus, if you don't know the answer, don't make up words." He strolled out of what _had _been a house before an incredulous Gus could reply.

* * *

Their 'psysics' class started out normally enough.

Shawn knew Gus was wondering why they'd waited for the class to start, and why he'd asked Juliet and Lassiter to wait out in the hallway but make sure they weren't visible until after class stared, but he ignored the questioning glances - all the answers would be revealed soon enough, anyway.

"You!" Kirk shifted under the attention, uncomfortable with being in the spotlight.

He didn't run until Shawn got to the bit about identity theft.

Shawn didn't make any effort to chase the fleeing figure. "Why do they always run?" He wondered aloud. "Don't they know it just makes them look guilty?"

Besides, there were two detectives waiting outside to catch him, even if Kirk didn't know that.

Yet, at least.

* * *

Shawn got a call the next morning.

"Chief!" He tossed a toy from one hand to the other. "Another case already? Lay it on me - I'm ready. The spirits informed me that you would-"

"_Cut it out, Spencer, it's not a new case." _Chief Vick sounded irritated. _"Kirk Godel escaped custody last night - none of the officers are sure how, including the two that were on guard when he somehow vanished from his cell. Think you can find him?"_

"Absolutely." Shawn leaned back in his chair, putting the toy down for a moment and frowning thoughtfully. "How'd he get out?"

"_So far, we have no idea." _He could hear Chief Vick sigh over the phone. "_According to the guards, they were interrupted by someone else in the department and when they looked back in the cell he was gone."_

"Any way he could have gotten out, besides past them?"

"_None. That's why I thought we could use a psychic - this is really more your thing, Shawn."_

Shawn hesitated. "Right. I'll be down in a sec. Absolutely." He hung up before the Chief could reply.

Great. Now the entire department was going to be expecting him to solve an impossible crime with his psychic abilities.

It wasn't like he hadn't done it before - _multiple _times - but this was a little more impossible than most.

* * *

"So he couldn't have gone out the window," Shawn mused, observing the unbroken glass with wire in between two panes.

"No way," One of the cops behind him said. "No one's that small."

"You said someone came up and distracted you?" Shawn pressed, turning on his heel to face them. There was a crinkle under his shoe and Shawn frowned, lifting it to reveal that he'd stepped on a Snickers wrapper.

"Yeah," Said the other guard, distracting him from the discovery. "Some guy. I think he was in records, wanted our report on the case. We told him it was Lassiter's report and to go up to the bullpen."

"He asked a few more questions about it," The first cop said, laughing to himself. "Must've wanted to move himself up in the rankings. Anyway, we turn around and the kid's gone."

"Hm." Shawn strolled past them and up into the bullpen, thinking hard. "Lassie!"

The detective turned around, his usual scowl firmly in place. "What do you want, Spencer?"

"Did you see a guy yesterday? The cops who lost Kirk Godel say they told him to go talk to you when he went down to talk to them since he worked in records and wanted the case report-"

"Enough! No, I didn't see anyone yesterday," Lassiter snapped. "Now leave me alone! I've got plenty to do without _you _hovering over my shoulder."

Shawn stopped, but Lassiter was turning back to his desk already and didn't notice. If the guy from records never talked to Lassiter, that meant-

"Chief," Shawn announced, striding into her office, "We have a mole."

Chief Vick frowned, setting down her paperwork. "Mr. Spencer, please tell me you mean that figuratively."

"Not at all." Shawn's hand flew to his head. "One of the people in this department is a dirty liar, and helped Kirk Godel escape."

She looked bewildered, then severe. "Call those guards up here."

* * *

It took about twenty minutes for a sketch artist to arrive, and another ten before the drawing progressed enough for Shawn to frown [seriously, he was frowning so much today. What was up with that?] and hover closely over the woman's shoulder.

The woman looked up at him with a mildly disturbed expression. "Do you mind?"

"Mr. Spencer, are you getting something?" Chief Vick asked.

"I know him," Shawn said.

"Great." Lassiter said with fake cheerfulness, while Juliet shot him a dark look. "Who is he? Someone new in records?"

"No, that's..." Shawn rubbed his face. "This doesn't make any sense. That's the janitor from Meitner."

Pause.

"Why on Earth would the janitor from Meitner help Godel - or whatever that man's real name was - escape from the station?" Juliet looked baffled.

"Maybe he was in on it?" Lassiter suggested. "The guy bribed him with the reward money?"

"That still doesn't explain how he vanished from his cell," Vick interjected. "_Or _how this janitor somehow walked past everyone in the station without _anyone _noticing that he didn't work here!"

The two guard cops looked awkward. The sketch artist looked like she'd rather leave. Lassiter sighed.

"Obviously they somehow got the guards distracted enough - not hard, with this bunch - for this Godel guy-"

"Richardson," Juliet reminded him.

"_Whatever - _for him to put on a station uniform. If the janitor could walk in, Richardson could walk out, especially if no one saw his face and he was with someone claiming to be a member of the department." Lassiter looked satisfied.

Vick did not. "You're claiming that, without knocking out the guards, they somehow managed to unlock Richardson's cell, give him new clothes, and walk out with him, all without these two noticing a single thing?" She pointed at the two guards.

Lassiter's smile faded. "Well, it - it's got a few holes-"

"Swiss cheese has more holes, Lassie," Shawn complained. "_Obviously _this janitor teleported Richardson out of his cell."

"Be serious for three seconds, Spencer!"

"Why? You need to be more open-minded, Lassie."

* * *

Shawn was pouting.

He'd refuse to admit it, but he was. He and Gus had been kicked out of the station while Juliet and Lassiter went over the Meitner case again, trying to find some connection between the nameless janitor and Richardson.

"Come on," Gus wheedled. "It's right nearby! We can get jerk chicken!"

"No, Gus, not even for jerk chicken!" Shawn slumped. "They just totally dissed us! I mean, come on, we solved the Meitner case! How hard could it be for us to figure out this one?"

Gus sighed. "Look Shawn, unless something drastic happens, they're not going to hire us!"

"They already did!"

"It's not the same case, Shawn."

Shawn opened his mouth to retort, then froze.

"What?" Gus looked at Shawn, then followed his friend's line of sight.

"No way."

What sort of probability was it that they would be across the street as the janitor casually strolled into his house?

"Let's go!" Shawn was halfway across the street already - luckily, it wasn't a busy one.

"Shawn, wait!"

"For what?" Shawn demanded as Gus hopped up to the curb on the opposite side.

"We should call Juliet."

"No way! We can totally do this on our own! How dangerous could it be?"

The door opened on it's own when Shawn knocked.

"That's creepy."

"He just left it unlocked, Gus." They stepped inside, moving quickly through the house and glancing around at plain walls and...odd...decoration choices.

"This guy sucks at interior design," Gus said, disgust in his voice as he carefully prodded the checkerboard kitchen tiles with one foot. "Who even has these anymore?"

"Gus, don't be that annoying guy from those home remodeling shows." Shawn poked around in the cabinets, which were strangely empty. "We're here to snoop, not criticize his life choices - although we could easily do both."

"Wait, Shawn, shhh." Gus held up a hand. "Do you hear that?"

Shawn paused, cocking his head. There was a faint sound coming from what sounded like the basement - two people, having an argument if the volume was anything to go by.

"Basement," Shawn said, heading for the nearest doorway. Closet. He opened the one next to it. Stairs, coupled with an increase in the volume of the voices, even though it was still hard to make out what they were saying. "Bingo. Let's go, Gus!"

"I don't like this." Gus followed anyway.

He nearly ran into Shawn at the bottom of the stairs, the latter having frozen. "Shawn, what the-" Then he saw the body.

"Oh, my-"

"Do _not _throw up on me." Shawn said quickly. The body looked like it had been stabbed, and it was very obviously Julian Richardson. "Okay...so something went wrong here."

"You _think?" _Gus was very determinedly not looking at the body. "This is a crime scene. We need to get out."

Shawn paused, narrowing his eyes at something poking out from behind a wall. There was still someone shouting - though at this point, it was more nonsensical yells. "Hold on, if he's dead, who's the other guy?"

He walked forward, not heeding Gus's frantically whispering for him to stay back and froze in surprise as he rounded the corner.

There were at _least _three Julian Richardsons. Maybe four. It was hard to tell, because they were all screaming at each other and running around trying to hit the other versions of - themselves? Gus made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he rounded the corner.

"_Shawn." _There were maybe another seven Julians strewn around on the floor, dead and bloody, but none of the surviving three seemed to be paying any attention to the bodies. Gus yanked Shawn back behind the wall before any of the Julians noticed them. "What the hell is going on?" He hissed, as they both peered around the corner again.

As they watched, Shawn suddenly knew what was coming and yanked Gus back, cutting off his line of sight. One of the Julians buried a knife in the other's chest, the latter choking and clutching at the wound. He sank to the floor, the two remaining Julians facing each other in the sudden, intense quiet that followed.

"Shawn," Gus said, very quietly. "Please tell me what I think happened didn't just happen."

"Sorry."

"Go away!" One of the Julians yelled, sounding panicked. "You're not me!"

"Liar!" The other one yelled. "You _stole _me! You took my name, my identity! I'm going to freaking _kill _you!"

"I didn't steal anything! I'm really Julian!"

"Like you were really Kirk?" The second one launched himself at the other Julian, and they went down in a screaming tussle.

Shawn pulled his head back behind the wall, not wanting to see what happened next.

"What the hell is this?" Gus panted. "How can there be so many of him?"

"I don't know." Shawn winced as one of the Julians screamed again. "No one's going to believe us, you know."

"_Is this really the time?"_

The room had gone suddenly, ominously silent. Exchanging a glance, Shawn and Gus tentatively poked their heads around the corner again.

There was one Julian standing, breathing heavily. As they watched, his posture suddenly straightened, the knife in his hands falling with a clatter to the ground.

He vanished right before the duo's shocked eyes in a sort of blue plasma mist, revealing another figure that hadn't been there before stretched out leisurely on a comfortable-looking chair.

"You!" Shawn stepped into the room, wincing as he nearly stepped on one of the Julians. Gus didn't move, eyes shut tight and breathing through his mouth. The stench of blood was oppressive. "You did this."

"Give the man a prize." The janitor's eyes were gleaming like he knew something Shawn didn't. Casually, he got up, looking down dismissively and using his toe to nudge one of the Julian bodies onto its back. "Well, this is messier than I anticipated."

Raising one hand, he snapped his fingers.

All the Julians vanished in the same blue mist.

Except one.

Shawn blinked, turning to look around the room. Had that really just happened? All evidence that they'd ever been there had vanished - even the smell was gone. Gus cautiously cracked open one eye.

"What are you?" Shawn asked in a voice that was shakier than he'd have liked to admit.

The man-shaped thing in front of him laughed. "You guessed something like it earlier," He said, way to happily, "Although the Fae would rip your heart out at the insult if you ever mentioned it in their hearing range." He bowed, an overdramatic movement that smoothly brought him back upright. "I'm a trickster."

"A what?"

The trickster sighed. "Humans. Never remember the important ones, do you? A _trickster, _dumbass. As in, I play tricks."

"You were a janitor," Gus said, gulping when the amber gaze fixed on him. The trickster smiled.

"I always try to establish myself first," He said cheerfully. "Unfortunately, little Julian here got to my target before I could. I couldn't just let that go, could I? What would you have done?"

"Not killed anyone?" Shawn suggested.

The trickster's smirk was razor-sharp. "You're adorable," He said. "But no. And Julian's been a naughty boy anyways - I mean, murder?" He made a tsking noise. "I figured, what was the harm in going after a different jerk than originally planned? Nada." His gaze returned to stare uncomfortably intensely. "But then you and your buddy found me."

"Yeah," Gus said, "And the police are going to be here any second, so-"

"Save it." The trickster said with stony finality. "You're lying. You never called the police. I've been watching you since you set foot in the house - at the expense of missing the show down here, I might add."

Shawn struggled not to react to the thing calling the massacre a _show. _"That's the real Julian," He said, pointing at the body in between him and the creature, "Isn't it?"

"You're the psychic." The trickster rolled the word around his mouth. "What do you think? If you do well enough, I might let you leave."

"We can leave anytime, the door's right over..." Shawn trailed off as he turned around, only to see a blank wall where the hallway they'd just walked down had previously been.

"Where'd the hallway go?" Gus asked, sounding panicked.

"Don't worry," The trickster told them, sounding amused. "It's where it always was. Like I said..." His gaze hardened. "If I like what I hear, you're free to go." He crossed his arms. "Well, psychic?"

Shawn swallowed hard, then forced himself to backtrack.

"You wanted Hahn," he said. "Because - you like playing tricks." _What was the harm in going after a different jerk than originally planned? _"Because he was a dick. That's who you play tricks on. But Julian killed him before you could do anything to him."

The trickster's face was blank, the faintest smile curving his lips. Shawn kept going, emboldened by the silence. "So then you didn't have Hahn. Julian was your revenge. You confronted him about his identity theft - all the other Julians. They said they were the real one. And they were just as willing to - to kill."

"Hm." The trickster looked almost surprised. "Better. If you were a real psychic, you'd have known what I was the moment you talked to me. But good nonetheless."

"Does-" Gus broke off, then tentatively continued. "Does this mean we can go?"

The trickster raised his eyebrows, smiled, and snapped his fingers.

* * *

Shawn woke up to his ringtone blaring full volume.

He fumbled for the phone and managed to hit the 'accept' button without opening his eyes. "Yeah?"

_"We've got a problem." _It was Juliet. _"We just found Julian Richardson's body."_

Shawn frowned. A body? Why didn't that-

He tensed as he remembered where he'd been before - he didn't remember going to sleep on the sofa in the psych office, and he _definitely _didn't remember going back to the office at all. What he did remember was-

The trickster.

"_Shawn?"_

"Yeah, I'm - I'm here." Shawn sat up warily, expecting to see the short creature smirking at him. The office was empty - except for Gus, who was snoring away in his chair. "I think I might pass on this."

"_What? Shawn-" _Shawn hung up, tossing his phone down and striding over to Gus's desk.

"Wake up!" He shook his friend, causing Gus to abruptly startle awake, nearly falling out of his chair.

"Shawn?" he squinted. "What do you want?"

"Do you remember coming back to the office?" Shawn demanded.

Gus paused, then his eyes widened. "The trickster?" he squeaked.

"It must have been him." Shawn walked over to the window, peering out at the beach to see if he could spot it anywhere.

"How could he have gotten us to the office?" Gus demanded, standing up - Shawn heard his chair scrape against the floor. "We were across town. Do you think he knocked us out and put us here?"

"What time was it?"

"What?"

"Time," Shawn snapped. "You checked your watch at the restaurant before we went into his house. What time was it?"

Gus was quiet for a moment, probably thinking. "Ten fifteen," he said. "Why does that matter?"

Shawn glanced at the nearest clock. "We spent ten minutes in there," he said, turning it so that Gus could see the face. It was ten thirty - exactly fifteen minutes after Gus had checked his watch. "We were in that house five minutes ago."

"That's not possible," Gus said automatically, staring at the clock. "You can't get across town in less than five minutes."

"Gus, I don't even remember getting knocked out." Shawn hoped it wasn't obvious how freaked out he was at not remembering something that he _should. _"Whatever a trickster is-"

"I'll look it up." Gus paused in the act of opening his computer. "What about the case?"

Shawn breathed out, slowly. "I don't know about you," He said, "But I don't think we can do much on this one."

Neither of them wanted to run the risk of meeting the trickster again.

* * *

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